


Too Much Hate for the One You Love

by m3aculpa



Series: Blood Music [9]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Glee
Genre: Community: 10_hurt_comfort, Crossover, M/M, Mild Language, Rape/Non-con References, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike gets a clue. But it might be too late to fix things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Hate for the One You Love

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Too Much Hate for the One You Love  
>  **Fandom:** Glee/Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Kurt, Spike, Spike/Kurt, Puck, Finn  
>  **Warnings:** Glee: AU after season 1. Buffy: Set after 4x14 "Goodbye Iowa". Screwy timelines, in other words. Spike's language. Bad Brittishism in the spirit of the show.  
>  **Word count:** 2522 words  
>  **Summary** : Spike gets a clue. But it might be too late to fix things.  
>  **a/n:** Eighth installation in Blood Music and the table to be found [**here**](http://m3aculpa.livejournal.com/3176.html). So sorry that I broke schedule, but I really had underestimated how tired I would be after NaNoWriMo and how much effort I had to put in to study for the exam I took this Friday. But better late than never, right?  
> 

**Too Much Hate for the One You Love**   


The anger carried Spike far. He walked briskly and unmolested through the darkened streets of Sunnydale. As he had previously noticed, very few demons were out and about. It was just as unwelcome as before, because he was very much spoiling for a fight. The anger was like lightning through his blood. Not even his tenth cigarette since he’d left the crypt could manage to soothe him even slightly.  
   
He pictured the devastation on Kurt’s face in his mind and he relished in the image. It made him feel like a proper demon, once again. The tears, the anguish, the disbelief that Spike would make him do this… The stuck-up bitch had it coming. Kurt had been looking down on him, laughing, thinking that he should take his chances with another vampire that wasn’t effectively neutered as a threat. He’d preferred the whelp and the vegetable to his _sire_. All the while laughing and mocking; Spike had seen it in the corner of his eyes and he couldn’t stand it!  
   
But he’d put him in his place. No more laughter from that corner. It felt good to be back on top and to have effectively made the three of them remember that he wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t weak and dependant. Being reminded of this, that he still was William the Bloody, made strength course through his veins. It was pleasurable. It felt like the old days. He smirked to himself. Those were days that really ought to be re-created!  
   
He carelessly dropped the fag onto ground; still smouldering. There was an irate shout behind him. But he turned and snarled. The human shrunk back from him. A stench of terror filled the air and the man (boy, really; all smooth-skinned and having a sense around him of how he perceived himself to be invulnerable because he was young) was seconds from wetting himself. Spike raised an eyebrow. The boy stumbled over himself as he turned and ran. Useless, really. If Spike wanted to (could), he would reach him in seconds and kill him. No human could outrun him.  
   
Spike decided that he needed to save that memory for the next time the whelp Xander called him fangless. It would be a nice break from his by this time repetitive fantasy of ripping out Xander’s throat and paint the room with it. Would blood actually work as paint? he wondered. It coagulated too quickly to be used as a proper lubricant, so maybe it would become a sticky, flaky mess before he’d had time to re-paint the watcher’s entire flat.  
   
Ah, there was the bench where he and Dru had killed the homeless man! The sound of the screams, the feeling of breaking through the skin and down into the veins, the smell of sweat and fear; it was all so clear in his head. It was almost like he was back there.  
   
Sentimentality made him settle down on the bench and muse on the days when he had terrorised Sunnydale. He didn’t think much about Kurt. Just the occasional stab of pleasure at how he’d put his uppity princess in his proper place and reminded him that Spike was superior to him.  
   
He needed another cigarette. His strong emotions demanded it. Not one to say no to his vices, Spike stuck his hand inside his pocket. The pack was dug out after some searching and he shook out one. But suddenly he wasn’t feeling too good. He shoved the pack inside his pocket in annoyance and held the stick between his lips.  
   
He tried to light it. But his hands were starting to shake. They shook harder until he was afraid that he would drop the lighter. It was ridiculous. He tried to steady them, but they wouldn’t. They kept shaking. Even stranger still was that he was starting to feel vaguely sick. It almost felt like coming down from a high. Maybe crashing was more apt. Crashing badly.  
   
Maybe it was that he could never outrun William the Bloody Awful Poet, which made him in tune with his emotions. Even when he’d lost his soul. He dropped the cigarette and let it fall to the ground. A quote came unbidden to mind: ‘ _there’s a ripple effect in all we do. What you do touches me; what I do touches you._ ’  
   
It started to become clear and he shook with the force of it. It was not Kurt who was drifting away; it was he who was _driving_ Kurt away. But why? The image of Kurt in his mind was accompanied by a possessive feeling and the strong sense of love. He wanted Kurt by his side forever. Yet not. There was a conflicted mess inside of him that was tearing his little black heart into little pieces.  
   
Okay. He could do introspection. He could reason this out. Probably. Unless it turned out to be boring. Then he’d probably just go and beat up some demon.  
   
Start from the beginning. Things had been fine in Lima. Well, things had been better than fine… He allowed himself a slow, pleased smirk. Those had been the days, they had. It had all changed after he left to kill the slayer, so that they could live in peace. He still doubted that she’d forgotten her smarting defeat at Kurt’s hands.  
   
His run-in with Captain Cardboard and his merry band of idiots had put a halt to those plans. They were on the top order of business needed to be done once the chip was out. Where was he? Ah, yes. Pain, torture, humiliation, blah blah blah… The chip had been implanted. Kurt had come to his rescue and it was after that he had changed.  
   
No. Spike shook his head and realised that his trembling had abated. Something wasn’t right with that statement. Kurt had been exactly like he’d been in Lima: horny, eager, willing to share his blood, his prey, everything… But something had changed. Spike couldn’t pin-point it.  
   
He’d broken Kurt’s arm.  
   
The ripple effect, he realised. The changes perceived in Kurt was just Kurt reacting to the changes in _Spike_. Kurt’s mockery and sneers were only in Spike’s head. The reason that they weren’t as close before the chip was… was… Spike lost the trail of thought.  
   
He’d broken Kurt’s arm. On purpose. He’d wanted to hurt his princess. Not only that, but he’d raped him. He’d used his suggestion to make Kurt participate in a sexual act which Kurt _didn’t want_. Effectively, he’d raped Noah and Finn as well. Sure, it was obvious that Noah desired Kurt and was jealous of Spike, but he probably didn’t want sex to happen that way. Spike had taken away their choice and ability to consent.  
   
The sick feeling was more than vague now. It was horrible; rolling and twisting his stomach. There was a possibility he’d destroyed his princess. Kurt loved him, but was also afraid of him. That was why he was drifting away. Another possibility was that Kurt would now leave him. Spike couldn’t blame him, really. He remembered all vividly the things he’d felt and thought after leaving the crypt. He’d almost got hard and started masturbating out in the open. He shook his head.  
   
What was behind it? The urge to hurt his luv and actually be glad about it. Was it the chip? Were its circuits messing up his brain somehow? It had something to do with the chip, because it all started after that…  
   
“Oh.”  
   
The soft sound of understanding escaped him and leant back on the bench, sprawling over the bitch. The chip. It had all to do with the chip. But not in the way he’d been considering; that it had altered his brain to a more violent state. It was what it _did_. It took away his ability to bite humans and hunt for himself. It left him dependant on _Kurt_.  
   
The chip wasn’t altering his personality. His perceived helplessness and frustration was _what_ was altering his personality. He was envious of Kurt because of his ability to hunt and bite. He experienced jealousy of Noah and Finn because they could offer Kurt more than he could. Excitement, danger, _play…_  
   
Oh, bugger, he had some serious grovelling to do! With Drusilla, all he’d needed to do was find a pretty girl in a pretty dress and everything would be forgotten. Kurt could hold a grudge. Spike had to smile at some of the memories. Oh, yes, Kurt could hold a grudge and it was one of the things he loved the most about him. It was fun!  
   
His smile dropped. Not so fun when he was the one on Kurt’s bad side. He needed to get back. He needed to explain to Kurt what he’d just realised. They needed to get back on track and get the chip out. Then they could return to Lima in order to terrorise the town. He felt giddy with anticipation. No, he _shivered_ with anticipation. His fingers twitched like he needed a cigarette to calm himself. But it might be better to save them for the conversation. It would be rough.  
   
His scalp itched. He frowned and looked up at the sky. Bloody hell! It was almost morning. The sky was shifting colours already. There was a sewers’ opening just a few feet away from him. He scrambled down into the protective darkness. He could get to the crypt from there.  
   
No… no, he couldn’t. Kurt had insisted on a crypt that wasn’t connected to the sewers. He didn’t want any nasty surprises in his home. Well, no nasty surprises in their home that’d be bleeding over their fancy rug. And there was no way he could get home before sunset.  
   
He was too twitchy to sleep. Maybe he should have, but he spent the day pacing. There was a tentacle beastie early on that decided that he looked like a tasty meal. He took great pleasure in ripping it apart. But maybe he should have drawn it out longer. He had a lot of nervous energy left and the tentacle beast’s blood tasted nasty. He needed some refrigerated human blood to wash away the taste.  
   
He thought he’d go crazy before the sun set. He navigated the tunnels until he was closer to the crypt and then snuck up. There was no need to awake some nosy human’s attention. There was nobody around to see. He jumped up and started walking nonchalantly. He only slowed down momentarily as he considered just leaving and taking on the Initiative on his own. It would be easier than to get Kurt to forgive him.  
   
The sight that met him in the crypt was thoroughly unwelcome. Kurt and the fledges were on the bed together. Curled up in a puppy pile. Luckily princess was dressed. Spike’s vision was momentarily overtaken by red. The rage was so sudden that Spike almost gave in. It took a tremendous amount of will power not to tear the little roaches off the bed and off. His. Kurt!  
   
“Yes?” Kurt asked without opening his eyes. “What do you want, _Spike_?”  
   
His name was said with such disgust that Spike almost flinched. Instead he said,  
   
“Get out!”  
   
He clearly directed this at their fledges. Finn whimpered and curled up tighter around Kurt. The whelp on the other hand… If looks could kill, Spike would be a pile of dust on the floor right now. Those dark eyes shone with murderous rage. He was just a step away from changing into game-face and snarling.  
   
“Do it,” Kurt ordered softly and coldly. “I want to hear what he has to say.”  
   
Finn obeyed. But Noah stayed on the bed. His glare intensified.  
   
“Noah–“ the brunette started to say sharply.  
   
“Fine,” Puck said and rolled off the bed. “But we’re staying right outside, Hummel. I don’t trust _him_.”  
   
Spike waited for Kurt to refute him. It hurt more than he wanted to admit when there was none forthcoming. Kurt didn’t trust him. He guessed that he deserved it. What he didn’t deserve, in his opinion, was the shoulder check Puck gave him on his way past him. He nearly snarled and grabbed hold of him. He just barely crushed the impulse. Grovelling, remembering? Making one of Kurt’s favourite toys bleed was probably not the right way to go. Or was it?  
   
… no, probably not.  
   
“Talk,” Kurt said and his tone was cold enough to make Spike shiver.  
   
“Everything’s going wrong, princess,” he started and wanted another fag already. “But I’ve figured it out, you see.”  
   
Kurt’s face was close-off. Completely blank. Spike tried to guess what he was thinking, but there were no hints in his body language. He kept talking, but felt himself sweating. It was like wooing Cecily all over again. Only harder.  
   
“It’s not the chip,” he tried to explain. “I’ve realised that now, luv. It’s the way I view myself. I’m fangless. I see myself and I’m even more pathetic than the poo–“  
   
The slight narrowing of Kurt’s eyes made him stop. “It makes me lash out. I’m the big Bad; I can’t be helpless, right? I can’t offer you anything, princess. So many fond memories, I have, of us hunting together. Playing. That was fun, wasn’t it? I want it, I do.”  
   
His nail-polish was chipping. It needed to be redone. He fiddled with his lighter and his pack. He wanted to take one out, light it and feel the nicotine calm him down. But he held back.  
   
“Now that I know what it is,” he said while looking earnestly at Kurt, “I can work on it, I can. And we can fix it. We can work with Adam. We can fix _this_. And then we can go back to Lima, princess, and leave bloody Sunnyhell behind.”  
   
Kurt looked like he was considering Spike’s words carefully. Measured their sincerity. His head was tilted to the side and he was serious. Slowly he straightened up. He crossed a leg primly over the other and clasped his hands in his lap. Spike felt a sinking feeling. He didn’t like this.  
   
“You broke my arm, Spike,” Kurt said slowly. “You _raped_ me. Not only me, but Noah and Finn as well. You made us have sex and I… I’ve never felt that way. That small.” He started to look a little angry. “You can’t just come and say things that make it sound easy. I can’t trust you right now.”  
   
Spike’s eyes flashed yellow and he gnashed his teeth. Here he was offering an olive branch and the fucking little bitch just wouldn’t take it! He ought to show how Kurt should be grateful. He took one step forward.  
   
Kurt flinched back.  
   
It made the sudden rage evaporate. He was frightening Kurt. He was hurting him. This… this was what he’d sworn not to anymore. He’d been standing here; _telling_ Kurt how it wouldn’t happen again. How he would work on it. It hadn’t been more than a couple of minutes and he was already breaking his word.  
   
Bugger. Bugger it all.  
   
He turned and ran.

**Author's Note:**

> On that note, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you hanging. _Everything Burns_ isn't, at the moment, finished. I'm half-way through what I've outlined to happen and I need to write the final, action-packed scene. I think I'll have it up sometime after Christmas. I'll hopefully see you then.


End file.
